


Heartbeats Under The Floorboards

by Auntie Agatha (EctoHoltzmann)



Series: Spellbound [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29878140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EctoHoltzmann/pseuds/Auntie%20Agatha
Summary: After the events of Westview, Agatha Harkness is forced to reflect on herself in order to have a chance to save another.
Relationships: Agatha Harkness & Wanda Maximoff, Agnes (WandaVision) & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness
Series: Spellbound [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2196747
Comments: 19
Kudos: 108





	1. Reflection

It had taken weeks to break free of the mind control, but in the aftermath of the lowering of the Hex, her mind has started to register what had occurred. As the oppression dwindled, Agatha became herself once more, albeit a little exhausted from the strain. The girl had been powerful, just as the myths foretold, although as she had mentioned to young Wanda, the chaos magic cast within the Hex were doomed to be broken eventually. After a few short days of regaining her strength, she caught herself curious of the after effects of all the chaos magic. What had it done to those around her, to the very fabric of reality that surrounded the town? 

She was gone in the blink of an eye. All of her belongings, every shred of evidence she could've left behind, even her rabbit familiar. It was as if Agatha... Agnes, had never existed within the small town of Westview. Even though she was well aware that someone would come looking. The Sorcerer Supreme would've most definitely felt the aftershocks of power and chaos colliding over Westview. Perhaps the echoes were felt through the Multiverse as well. It was best that she lay low. Even though this place had felt like a home, it definitely wasn't one in the slightest, even if she did enjoy her stay for the most part. 

Agatha sat back in an old leather chair in her residence safely tucked away in her own little pocket dimension she had conjured in Salem. As painful as this place was, it was her first and only real home. Her blue eyes gazed over at one of her many bookshelves. Not looking at anything particular as she pondered what that young witch was looking for in the Darkhold. That book was too powerful for someone with such little practice. You needed to protect yourself with that old tome. It irradiated dark energy, corrupting energy. Something that Agatha was far too intimate with even for her own liking. She let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over her eyes as she conjured a cup of tea with the other. Bringing it up to her lips as she opened her eyes to just focus on something, anything, that wasn't Wanda Maximoff. But the nagging notion of that young witch playing with dark forces she didn't understand pulled at her thoughts. That book would kill her if she wasn't careful. Agatha knew that she wouldn't even feel it's dark presence seep into her mind until it was too late. That poor girl wouldn't know what hit her.

_Wanda Maximoff._

Why did her thoughts always travel back to her? Was it that she had been disabled by the younger woman, or was it something more? She thought back on their interactions, all the small smiles and winks. The bump of one's hip against the other's. The way Wanda had squeezed her waist while ushering her out of a room. How she had gladly accepted Agatha's arm when offered. Even how the younger woman allowed herself to be guided away from Monica, easing into Agatha's arms. The older woman would've been lying to herself if she said she hadn't felt Wanda's pull of conformity in her mind the moment she had set foot in that town. Even when the young witch had locked her into her own mind, Agatha had remembered the slightly forlorn look in Wanda's eyes, and the small smiles at _Agnes'_ playful flirtations. Funny enough, she had kind of enjoyed that name. Had she really been playing a role in Westview? Or had the older woman felt... something? Maybe hidden below just under the surface. Feelings she hadn't thought about in so very long. Not since her original time in Salem when the world was simpler, yet the prejudice was the same. The tea was cooling in her cup as she replayed the events and dwelled on her memories.

She finally looked back down at her cup, draining it quickly before rising out of her chair. Already missing the warm leather, she lit her ornate iron fireplace with a flick of her fingers as she moved over to the closest bookshelf. She perused it as her thoughts poked at her composure. Agatha selected a tome, flipping through it, and not finding anything that interested her, placed it back on the shelf smoothly. Wanda was still in her mind, rooted in her.

_In her._

Agatha's eyes went wide for a moment as the idea entered the forefront of her thoughts. The chaos magic. The older woman lifted her hand in front of her, focusing her attention on creating just a standard purple orb in her hand, letting the wisps play around her fingers. If it was still there, if Wanda hadn't somehow reclaimed all of the chaos magic she had siphoned in their duel, how would she know? From what bit of field research she had on the girl, it had to do with her emotions and the lack of their control. In a way, it went against everything Agatha had known for centuries. Even her magic was precisely controlled, and in some ways, so were her true emotions. She had to know. She had to discover the truth. She had to help the young witch that had reminded her so much of herself when Agatha was her age.

She took a moment to reflect on base emotions, finding the ones that had always haunted her. Agatha has been hunted, persecuted, suffered abuse in her own right. Her breaths became shallow as the memories slid into her mind's eye. The sideways looks over the years from those she had thought of as friends. Feeling like an alien in her own skin. Feeling like there was a monster inside that she didn't know how to control or sate. 

Agatha remember the events that lead to her trial. How she sought answers to her questions and was met with betrayal by her own coven. How her own mother had betrayed her. How the old crone had created something she considered a monster, an abomination, an abuser of power. 

How the only person to ever look at her with true affection, true love, was taken from her by an angry mob from the town church. And how, in her grief and rage, she had burned down their house of God in the same way those fearful puritans had burned the woman she had loved all those years ago with a pure heart so full of love. Agatha was sure she saw God every time they touched.

It was the feeling of isolation, of vilification, of loss. So much loss.

Her heart felt like it would burst and her head felt like it tilted of it's own accord for a moment as the fire now roared against the mantle. The gas lit lamps began dimming and burning bright without any real pattern. **Chaotically.** Her familiar purple energy lighting in both hands, nearly raging against her skin. Feeling like her own power would burn her flesh if she let it. But she had to let go, needed to feel it. Falling to her hands and knees against the floor, a white hot heat felt like it was rolling up her throat, her brunette locks whipping around her shoulders.  
Wanda had pulled her emotions from their safe little box, whether the younger woman knew what she had done or not.

Agatha stared down at her hands through angry tears, a floodgate of grief and sadness at all of the lost moments in her life, feelings of love and kindness that had been taken from her when she was so very young and full of hope. She struck the polished hardwood floor with a fist, rings of purple rippling across the surface like a detwave with each strike. The witch choked back sobs as the pain in her hand grew intense. But it didn't compare to the centuries worth of pain that had been smeared across her mind. 

There was a snap in her mind and withdrew against herself, rocking herself back to sit on her feet as she cried openly for that young woman she had loved so much all those years ago. The girl Agatha hadn't been able to save or even protect. 

"Never again!" She broke the floorboard with the amount of force she had struck the floor, pushing all of those once locked away emotions into the energy she cast out, only then realizing... that it was a red glow.

She inspected her glowing hands through blurry eyes and watched as the red hue lingered for a moment more before shifting back to it's natural purple tone. It was there, a piece of it was still there. Even if it was a miniscule amount, it was enough for what she needed it for. With this, she could find her, find Wanda. 

Even if the feeling Agatha suspected she had for the younger witch were real, even if they weren't reciprocated or acted upon, she wouldn't let another young woman fall to the darkness and prejudice of this world. And perhaps she could undo what had been done, for both of them.

Agatha let the purple energy fade away, slowly standing and cradling her most-likely-broken hand, as she smiled to herself. She could help Wanda be prepared for what was to come, maybe even save her from herself should she need it. 

"Now, I know how to find you."


	2. A Dark Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos is complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments and kudos on chapter 1. I'm trying to keep these in nice bite-size chunks so I can continue posting full chapters and not a whole novel. <3

Agatha Harkness groaned, coughing hard as the dust settled around her. That had been unexpected. She was laying on the stone floor of her workspace, trying desperately to catch her breath as her head pounded.  
She stared up and the vaulted ceiling above her for a long moment as she tried to consider all of the variables that could've possibly gone wrong with her spellwork. Ever since discovering the spark of Wanda's chaos magic left within her, she had been trying to figure out a way to locate her.

Agatha lifted a hand to wipe the hair out of her vision that had been stuck to the sweat of her brow and her eyes focused on her black-tipped fingers. The corruption of the Darkhold was always an option if the chaos magic didn't work out. Then again, she hadn't been in the vicinity of the tome in some time, that would make pinpointing it's location all the more difficult. Perhaps even more difficult than using the red traces still floating around her mind. The older witch pondered this for a moment, still feeling glued to the stones below her. 

She stirred to pull herself to her feet, but unbeknownst to her, her familiar fluffy demon had come to check on her. Having been too distracted, Agatha hadn't even noticed as Scratchy came to sniff at her hip. She noticed, however, when she tried to sit up. Scratchy, trying to check on his mistress, hopped up and landed hard on her stomach.

Agatha let gravity pull her back down, utterly winded by the unexpected _kindness_ of her worried personal demon. The witch lifted a hand to pat his head weakly. "I'm getting too old for this, buddy."

~~~~

Agatha stood in the shower, letting the scalding water cascade over her as she rested her head on her forearm, the only barrier between her and the stark contrast of the cold granite of the shower walls. She didn't know how long she's been there.

Her entire body was sore, and it wasn't the kind of thing that she could just magic away given that it was magic that had caused it. She was caught by a coughing fit, covering her mouth instinctively. When she pulled back, she saw blood in her hand. This complicated matters a little more. Agatha let the hot water wash it down the drain as she focused on the odd hot feeling swirling in her chest.

The last time she felt like this was in Westview, when the Scarlet Witch was born from the energy she had siphoned from Agatha. She had a sinking feeling that she was about to get a lot worse. A sneaking suspicion that the shard of untether chaos magic that lived in her wasn't cohabitating well with her own magic born of power that she wielded. Not to mention the remaining corruption of the Dark Dimension. 

Agatha would need to find a quicker solution to locating Wanda. And maybe, just maybe, the Scarlet Witch would consider it time served for her transgressions. She needed Wanda to take the shard from her. If she had any chance at convincing Wanda to lock down the Darkhold before it was too late, they would need each other to succeed. The last thing she wanted was for her own past mistakes to play out in another woman's life. Especially one that, if giving the opportunity, that the Lord of the Dark Dimension would use as a cosmic puppet. There was a reason the myth of the Scarlet Witch was written in the Darkhold.

It was an elaborate and alluring trap from one cosmic entity to another.

The water had run cold on her now, soaking her to the bone, yet she wasn't cold. She could only assume it was because of the chaos magic. Is that why Wanda always radiated a heat around her? She shook her head slightly to rid herself of the thought, stepping out of the shower and using her magic to dry and conjure up clothing.

Agatha stared at herself in the mirror for a hard minute, noting how tired she seemed, but also how sad she appeared. The witch swallowed hard, the taste of blood still lingering on her tongue. The gravity of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders The older witch supported her weight on the sink countertop, resting on her arms and she stared into the mirror. She searched her own reflection for an answer to the ever evolving problem. 

Of course. It was so simple. She audibly laughed at herself, how addled had this made her to forget her third option. Agatha rubbed her face with a hand in disbelief, actually surprised that her normally sharp mind had opted to omit a basic tool. The words she breathed into existence her punctuated by a chuckle. "Astral plane."

Granted, with everything going on inside of her, she wasn't sure how well she'd be able to sustain a projection in her state. Agatha would have to improvise a bit. "If at first you don't succeed..." she murmured the words to her reflection then turned to Scratchy who had been keeping her under a watchful eye from his cushion on a small shelf near the bathroom wall. "Try, try again. Right, sweetie?" His black eyes blinked up at her in agreeance. 

~~~~~

Agatha had pulled her hair back into a loose bun, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of her workspace as she rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the muscles and stretch some before the Astral Dive. She had prepared mentally for this, knowing that it had been some time since she had needed a reason to project, especially to an unknown local. Agatha fought a small cough, forcing it back down inside as the shard of chaos magic stirred in her chest. As much as it pained her, she would have to focus on that red spark inside. Trace the signature to it's source, to Wanda. 

This wasn't going to feel very good, she could tell.

Here goes nothing.

She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, focusing on tapping into her own well of power to enhance the presence of the chaos shard. Agatha could feel the energy rippling over her skin like purple tinted black waves, pulling her practiced incantation from her lips easily. The rushing sounds in her ears turned into a roar, deafening her to anything other than the energy that flowed around her. Once it had built up to it's full level, she isolated the red energy signature within her. As she pushed out with her astral form, the unexpected happened. 

Everything went dark.


End file.
